


International Relations

by musicmillennia



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunk Sex, Hangover, Multi, Post-drunk sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 12:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14105889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicmillennia/pseuds/musicmillennia
Summary: Ignis wakes up to a ringing phone, two bodies, and an aching head.





	International Relations

**Author's Note:**

> idk you guys

Rigid warmth buoys Ignis between heavy waves of―perhaps not  _sleep_. That feels too weak a word. It's almost as if he's been knocked unconscious by a particularly nasty spar with Gladio. But he doesn't hear Gladio's mocking growls or the med wing's quiet rustling of nurses. In fact, there's barely any sound at all, which first leads him to believe he's in his own apartment, where the walls can block most of Insomnia's thrumming. But he's not...sure?

He rarely feels so uncoordinated. The frustration forces his senses to lift the steel curtain a half inch more.

Breath. The rigid warmth breathes. One side on his nose and eyelids, a small splash compared to the other billowing on the back of his neck, meshed between knobs of his spine. For a strange moment, Ignis' brain melds them into one being before snippy logic flares his sense of touch and forms a new picture:

His preferred air freshener is absent and his walls can't block  _this_ much noise. Not his apartment. But not Noct's either.

It's the rest of it that really snaps his eyes open.

Rigid warmth. Scarred skin.

Breaths on two sides. Two bodies.

Ignis stares at the sleeping face of Ravus Nox Fleuret and thinks, slowly and firmly,  _Don't panic_.

_Analyze the situation._

_What is the last thing you remember?_

Ignis further pulls on his senses while he digs into his memory.

Sight: the room is dark from blocked sunlight, but this is very much a guest suite in the Citadel and― _don't panic, don't panic_ ―both Ignis and Nox Fleuret are naked.

Memory: this week has hosted representatives from Nifleheim following the Emperor's sudden death. Between the added meetings and his other duties, Ignis had been understandably stressed.

Touch: Ignis' head stabs the backs of his eyes. The other person behind Ignis has breasts. All three of their legs are tangled. One arm is draped over Ignis' stomach, another over his shoulder, pillowing the crick in his neck. Nox Fleuret's fingers idle on Ignis' hip, but they are not flush together. The weight of what could be bottles (sight confirms) tap at Ignis' toes on top of the sheets. Their scars grate against each other and dried semen itches Ignis' stomach, thighs, and growing horror.

Memory: Ignis was pulled into many a discourse where he usually went unnoticed. Commander Aranea Highwind evidently liked to banter with him. No matter how many times General Ravus attempted to return the conversation to Lucis' actual council. At first.

Smell: alcohol. It's a sickly, unworthy acid battling the Citadel's cool marble scent. Underneath, floral metal and dry cologne from Nox Fleuret and sweaty steel from who Ignis is beginning to suspect is Commander Highwind. By a small mercy, Nox Fleuret sleeps with his mouth closed, so Ignis doesn't have to endure  _that_. He does, however, have to endure the sickly sweetness of sex.

Memory: Yesterday, General Ravus asked Ignis a question before Commander Highwind. He spurned Ignis' attempts to refocus, despite his own adamant directions in the preceding meetings. King Regis' lips pursed the more his council frowned―the same way Noctis did when he was trying not to laugh―and Commander Highwind wouldn't stop smirking.

Taste: more alcohol. Rancid, dry, rotten. But there's also something else lingering with it, bitter but familiar from a few rare nights in high school. Ignis briefly closes his eyes and, in a childish moment, tries to forget this is happening.

Memory: Last night, after the final meeting for the day, Highwind pulled Ignis aside and blatantly told him that he was the only one who could talk sense besides His Majesty. She wrangled him into drinks, citing stress and, of all things, diplomacy. She got Nox Fleuret to accompany them by asking who else would keep her from too much mischief?

Sound: the Citadel's expensive AC's soft sighs. Highwind's light snoring. A dull purr of cars far below. Footsteps occasionally passing the door, giving Ignis fresh heart palpitations every time.

Memory: drinking. Talking. More drinking. Then...lips. Plush and chapped, then thin and chapped. Coarse hands. Tangled hair between strong thighs. Messy, messy, messy.

Ignis must leave.

 _Now_.

Nox Fleuret and Highwind are both skilled warriors, but hopefully the alcohol weighs them as much as it still lingers on Ignis' faculties. Absurdly, he finds his suit jacket thrown over the lampshade behind him (remembering something about a drunk aiming contest), with his phone still poking from the pocket.

Its screen is lit up, but it doesn't ring. Ignis  _never_ silences his phone. He can't see the name from here, but he can guess. Dread gurgles with his beaten liver.

Carefully, he turns over and leans across Highwind―for it is indeed her, though her hair covers much of her face―and just barely reaches it.

The call ends, but not before Noctis' name jabs Ignis' swollen eyes. Over 30 missed calls, nearly twice as many texts, and to top it all off, it is  _one in the afternoon_.

How in the  _hell_ is Ignis going to escape? If Ignis' absence is noticed, surely Nox Fleuret and Highwind have been missed. How did he even get here in the first place? Do people already  _know_?

Don't. Panic.

Fingers twitch at his side.

Ignis looks down and once again sees Nox Fleuret's face. This time, however, the man is very much awake and glaring wide-eyed at him.

With as much stoicism as he can muster, Ignis murmurs, "Good afternoon, Your Grace."

Nox Fleuret shoots up, immediately grimacing and rubbing his temple. His hair is a matted tangle. "Scientia. Are you going to answer that?"

Ignis looks back at his phone. Noctis is calling again.

"If you wouldn't mind? I simply need to...assuage His Highness' fears. I am not usually late in my duties."

Nox Fleuret grunts. "Say one word about this―"

"Forgive me, but I don't think that will be an issue."

A monstrous groan startles them both.

Scrubbing her face, Highwind snaps, "Just answer the damn thing!"

"Keep your voice down," Nox Fleuret hisses over their combined wince.

Ignis presses the phone to his ear. "Highness."

 _"Ignis!"_ Noctis cries. Ignis wrinkles his nose at the jarring noise.  _"Where have you been?! I was about to call the Crownsguard!"_

"No, no," Ignis replies, hoping he doesn't sound as uncomposed as he feels, "That's quite alright. I assure you, all is well."

_"Then what the hell happened?"_

Noctis sounds terribly worried. It's heartening, and Ignis finds himself smiling just a little. "Simply had a late night."

 _"Doing_ what _?"_

Ignis looks at Nox Fleuret's disgruntled cat glare. Looks at Highwind, face down on the mattress.

"International relations," he says dryly.

Highwind snorts. Nox Fleuret rubs his eyes.

_"What is that―y'know what, whatever. You're okay?"_

"Perfectly alright. I shall see you tonight."

Noctis pauses.  _"I mean. I guess you were due for a day to yourself. Just wish you would've called first."_

"My apologies."

 _"_ _Dad_ _says you've been helpful in the discussions with Nifleheim."_

Ignis' face heats. "Most kind of him."

_"...you sure you're okay? You sound off."_

Highwind stretches. The pillow doesn't muffle her moan.

_"Ignis."_

Ignis clears his throat. "Yes, Your Highness?"

 _"_ _What was that?"_

Hungover and mortified, Ignis forgets propriety and glares full-on at Highwind. She waves dismissively.

"I've no idea what you're talking about," he says tightly.

Another pause. 

 _"Ignis..."_ Noctis says incredulously,  _"are you. Is there someone with you?"_

Nox Fleuret puts his head in his hands, apparently as chagrined as Ignis feels. Nice to know he's not alone.

"Noct," Ignis says quietly, "I'm sorry to have worried you."

_"Oh my Six there's someone with you."_

"I simply―"

 _"Nope. No,"_  Noctis replies hurriedly, _"I don't wanna know, Specs."_

Ignis sighs. "Thank you―"

_"Gladio and Prompto definitely wanna know, though."_

Ah. That would be Gladio cackling in the background.

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose. "It is hardly their business."

"Technically..." Highwind mutters.

"Shut up, Commander," Nox Fleuret snarls, "You have caused enough damage."

"What, like it's  _my_ fault we all drank too much?"

"If you hadn't pushed us into this in the first place―"

"Pushed you?! That's rich."

Ignis smothers the receiver. "Would you please keep your voices down?"

But Highwind's already sitting up, fumbling until her arms support her scowling at Nox Fleuret. "Admit it, you wanted to get a drink with this guy as much as I did. I didn't plan on anything but some flirting. Who do you think I am?!"

"I think you're a scheming little―"

"I definitely wouldn't fuck you sober―"

"―conniving―"

"―son of a―"

Ignis slowly returns the phone to his ear. "Your Highness. I am going to hang up now."

Prompto sounds like he's wheezing. Gladio is yelling something. Noctis is stuttering.

Yeah. There's no way they don't know Ignis is with two people. With any luck they won't know who, though Ignis doubts rumors aren't spreading this instant.

Once he hangs up, he takes a single deep breath and centers his throbbing head.

The two officials find themselves pinned under two deft hands.

"If you please," Ignis says, low and stern, "I would appreciate if you did not cause a stir before I am able to find my way out of the Citadel in rumpled clothes and reeking of liquor. Lucis and Nifleheim are finally making progress. We cannot and  _will not_ ruin anything by one night of overindulgence. Are we agreed?"

He gazes at them steadily.

They blink at him.

Then Highwind smirks and asks, "Wanna shower before you go?"

* * *

"It was an accident, Your Majesty," Ignis finishes, still flushing, "Simply an accident. You have my deepest apologies and assurance that it will not happen again. I will of course accept any disciplinary action you wish to take."

The King's study plummets into an unsettling quiet. Ignis swallows, keeping his eyes on his shoes. The account had taken barely two minutes to explain―Commander Highwind had invited him to talk, he accepted, General Ravus accompanied them, and...they simply drank too much. Honestly, that's most of what Ignis can remember before they reached the guest suite. But at least the King knows now, in case tabloids decide to produce headlines or, Astrals forbid,  _photos._

He resolves to leave out the sober shower.

"Ignis."

Ignis tries not to cringe like a scolded child.

"You are skilled and dependable. You constantly go above and beyond for my son. I know your intentions were good."

But this is beyond the pale. Undoubtedly beyond the pale. The one time Ignis makes a public mistake and it happens to be bedding two members of Nifleheim's highest circle on a bender. At best he should be separated from Noctis.

Despite earlier pain medication, Ignis roils with nauseous agony.

"Ignis," His Majesty repeats.

Ignis nods slowly. "I understand."

A pause.

"There  _are_ pictures." Ignis' stomach drops. "But."

His head whips up, composure forgotten.

Regis is smiling gently. "They were only of you and the two officials talking. Smiling, even, at one point. While some conservatives naturally oppose such familiarity with our long-time enemies, most are relieved that the Prince's adviser has managed to befriend members of such status in the Nifleheim Empire."

'Befriend' is a strong word, but after last night and...the shower, Ignis doesn't think he can argue with it.

"Noctis showed you the Citadel's secret passages, hasn't he."

Ignis blinks. "Majesty?"

Regis leans forward, hands clasped. "The fact is, no one saw you or the Nifleheim officials enter the guest suite. In fact, your coming to me with this―information―" Ignis' face heats, "came as a surprise."

"I was...certain the Crownsguard at least saw me walking out."

"I can make inquiries, but such an anomaly would have been reported to me or Clarus. Ignis, if anything, you have strengthened the people's faith in these talks."

"...oh."

Ignis should have said something more intelligent. But. Well. He's understandably a little out of it.

He clears his throat and tries again. "I am greatly relieved to hear that, Your Majesty. I still apologize for any inconvenience."

Regis' eyes glimmer with his son's mischief. "I daresay no one has been inconvenienced here."

Ignis' hands clench in his lap. "Right."

"But do exercise caution next time. And if you wish to pursue this, use discretion until everything is more stable."

"Oh―I don't think there will be any worry over.  _Pursuing_ , Your Majesty."

Regis smiles. Ignis finds he does not like that smile.

"Of course," the King replies. Then he takes a breath and lets it out sharply. "Well. I thank you for taking the precaution of informing me of the whole situation. Now, I believe my son has been worried sick over you for hours." Ignis remembers the phone call and suppresses a cringe. "Go about your duties."

Ignis stands and bows deeply. "Thank you, Sire."

* * *

When Ignis arrives at Noct's apartment, he finds two smirking friends and one face-palming Prince.

"So," Prompto says gleefully.

Ignis pointedly heads to the kitchenette and sets about dinner.

"Didn't know you had it in you," Gladio drawls.

Hm, what should he prepare tonight? It's been cold for a while. Perhaps some soup to start.

"Ignis," Noctis says, sounding astonishingly similar to his father, "Don't say a damn word."

"About what, Highness?" Ignis asks lightly.

Prompto leaps from the couch. "I can't stand it! Who were they?  _How_ did you do it?! I need tips, Iggy!"

"Was it the two from Nifleheim?" Gladio teases.

Three mouths drop when Ignis hesitates over the cutting board.

"No way," Noctis says, "No  _way_. You guys were just talking in the papers!"

" _How_?!" Prompto shrieks again.

Ignis clears his throat. "I do believe Noct ordered me not to say anything."

"I don't wanna know," Noctis says, "But now I feel like I have to."

"We simply. Overindulged."

Gladio bursts out laughing. "You had  _drunk sex_ with Ravus Nox Fleuret and Aranea Highwind?!"

"That's Luna's brother!" Noctis whines.

Prompto sighs and throws himself back on the couch. "Never mind. That strategy won't work."

"It will not happen again," Ignis says firmly. "Simply an accident. And it does  _not_ leave these walls."

Noctis leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I. I can't believe this is real."

"The one time you get drunk," Gladio says, "and you end up in a threesome with Nifleheim elite."

"Ravus is Tenebraen," Noctis protests. He sounds like he's reciting something―most likely Lady Lunafreya's doing.

Gladio waves a hand. "Point is, he's way up there in the Empire."

"Uh, guys?" Prompto says. He sounds nervous.

"What now?" Noctis groans.

"Iggy got a text."

Ignis' eyes narrow. He snatches the phone from Prompto's hands.

 _UNKNOWN  
_ >>managed to sneak your # this morning. heading to dinner & picking you up ;) give me an address

Before Ignis can stop them, Gladio and Noctis are reading over his shoulder.

"Won't happen again, huh?" Gladio asks.

Ignis replies while they watch. 

>>I have duties to His Majesty. And we agreed it would not happen again.

The answer comes quickly.

>>who says anything has to happen? ;)

>>Your emoji speaks volumes.

>>glad to know that stick up your ass knows what an emoji is. address?

>>This is highly inappropriate, Commander Highwind

Suddenly,  _another_ unknown number pops up. Ignis did not know this was a group text.

>>(Unknown 2) Just go to Celestia's, Scientia.

Prompto, who's joined the crowd, squeaks. "Is that General Ravus?!"

Noctis buries his face in his hands. "Luna's never gonna let this go."

"How would she know?" Gladio asks.

"She  _always_ knows," Noctis replies gravely.

"Oracle foresight," Ignis says dryly.

>>(Ignis) General, I was under the impression that you agreed to our not having another outing.

>>(Ravus) You are at least halfway intelligent. I've been secluded with morons for the past five hours.

>>(Aranea) come on four eyes

"You're being asked on a  _date_ ," Noctis says incredulously. "Do you even know how to go on a date?"

Ignis scowls. "I am familiar with them, yes."

He walks away from them, increasing his pace when they follow. He types as fast as he can before hiding his phone.

"Did you just say _yes_?" Prompto cries.

"No way," Noctis says weakly. "Specs is too smart for that. He knows it's a bad idea."

Ignis' phone rings.

"Hello? Oh. Good evening, Sir Ulric." Ignis tilts his head. "I understand. I shall be there shortly."

"What does Nyx want?" Noctis asks.

Ignis sighs through his nose. "The new Emperor wishes to speak to His Majesty. It seems I have an inarguable excuse after all."

Noctis wrinkles his nose. "Thanks for going to these."

Ignis nods once and leaves.

* * *

>>Call my number. I have a plan.

>>Well, it would seem I have important duties to attend to. Mustn't keep the Kingsglaive waiting.

>>(Aranea) wouldn't want that ;)


End file.
